It seems that word travels fast through Night Vale's shadowed streets. Carlos receives more than a few glares from passerby as he waits in the alley behind the Ransom precisely eleven nights after his fight with Cecil. Even Simone has caught wind of the situation it would seem, judging by her uncustomary absence and the crushed aluminum can strategically placed at the scientist's usual hangout near the concrete steps to the back door. Carlos is used to the feeling of municipal eyes constantly upon him, but he tries to ignore the judgmental edge to their surveillance as he nervously fidgets with a bouquet of spiderlillies. His head shoots up as the stage door opens, but it's not Cecil who emerges. Cautiously, Kevin sidles his direction, leaning uncomfortably against the graffitied brick next to the scientist.
"What?" Carlos asks flatly.
"I didn't mean to ruin things," Kevin replies. For the first time, there's no purred undertone or affected gaiety to his voice. Carlos just shrugs dispassionately. "I mean it. Contrary to what I'm sure Cecil's told you, I'm not a horrible person," Kevin continues. "Vindictive and hopelessly petty, perhaps." From somewhere Carlos can't fathom, Kevin produces a cigarette and a lighter. He takes a long drag and lets it out slowly. "I know the things he says, about me I mean. He starts rumors about my only motivation being job security. And don't get me wrong," he adds, smoke drifting in arcs as he motions with his hands. "Sleeping with the club's owner has its perks, but it's a lot more than just that. Still - your boyfriend has a certain charm, and people always seem eager to listen."
Carlos watches him from the corner of his eye. Behind the flirtation and the costumes, Kevin and Cecil are much more alike than he'd originally realized. The dancer catches his glance and smirks before exhaling another silvery breath to the stars.
"My only intention was to give him a taste of his own medicine, since now the same rumors could very well be spread about him. In my defense, I didn't know you hadn't even told him," Kevin clucks as he grinds the edge of the cigarette lazily into the brick between the two of them. "All the same, I'm sorry if I ruined things."
"Well, no changing it now," Carlos sighs, more self-pity than bitterness in the remark. Suddenly something sparks in the dancer's onyx eyes.
"He's not going to be coming, or at least not this way. He's had Dana escort him out the front all week. I can make sure he gets those though," Kevin offers with a nod toward the bundle of flowers still clutched in the scientist's hand. "And if he still doesn't call by Thursday, come by and I'll work something out." Carlos studies the shadowed face of his companion. There's still a flicker of something unsettling about the man, but his expression seems sincere.
"Why would you help me?"
Kevin's eyelids flutter in a manner suggesting he'd very much like to roll those dark eyes. When he replies he does so slowly, as if explaining something obvious to a small child. "Just because I may be tempted to put crazy glue in your boyfriend's body glitter most days doesn't mean I hate him entirely. Besides," he shrugs. "You two have to stay together. For symmetry if nothing else."
Carlos chides himself for putting faith in Kevin's judgement as he waits anxiously in a private booth bedecked in lush plums and purples. The garishness of the scene is nearly as he remembers from the last time he was in a similar room, but this time he can see the edges of the veneer a little clearer. Nervous fingers tap out of sync with the music against an empty glass in his hand. The scientist is just formulating a means of escape when the door opens softly and the dancer steps in, all charming smiles until he recognizes the patron within the shadowy compartment. Cecil heaves a heavy sigh and immediately turns for the door.
"Wait," Carlos interjects. "I just, I need to talk to you. Please, just one song and then I promise I'm gone." Cecil chews his lip in momentary deliberation before marching over to the sofa.
"Dances are $60." The scientist eagerly offers a roll of bills that Cecil snatches from his hand and tucks into his waistband. "You have three minutes," he informs his client.
"You don't have to dance," Carlos objects as the dancer climbs effortlessly into his lap.
"You paid me for a dance, you're getting a dance," Cecil says, his tone unaffected. His entire demeanor speaks of detachment: his body moving in smooth undulations to a practiced rhythm, the rest of him coolly distant. Carlos has to try very hard not to notice the way Cecil still smells of cinnamon, how the dim lighting plays across his skin in rich shades of sepia; even harder not to think of the way those hips swayed much slower, in time with his own as the radio serenaded them one lazy morning.
Desperately, his eyes search the plush violet paneling on the opposite wall for help in refocusing his attention back to the reason he'd come here. "D-did you get the flowers I sent?" It's a weak opening line, and they both know it.
"Kevin seems to have seen to everything," Cecil comments dryly. "Two minutes."
"I came to tell you the truth," Carlos rushes all at once. "I don't have anything to lose anymore, I just - I just need you to know."
Cecil nods vacantly, urging him on with an unconcerned shrug.
"The truth is, I had never set foot in this place before that night. And even that, it was my birthday and I would have spent it by myself watching science documentaries on Netflix if Caesar hadn't kidnapped me and brought me here." Cecil's eyes flicker up to Carlos's face briefly. "I guess he felt obligated to give me a social life since god knows I'd never leave my lab otherwise. But I knew nothing about you or- or about any of this. I didn't even know your name. In fact, out in the alley," Carlos continues, his words smudging together at the edges in his effort to hurry them, "that night I almost said something to you. But I didn't know your name, and I was way too embarrassed to address you by your stage name." Cecil's impassive mask fractures long enough for him to let out a chuckle at the confession. Carlos latches onto the unexpected reaction, relying on it to fuel the rest of his carefully composed apology.
"The truth is, I don't believe much in coincidence either." Cautiously, he reaches out and runs his fingers through the silky waves of Cecil's hair as it smooths over his shoulder. Cecil stills at the familiar contact, all traces of a facade fading to reveal the vulnerability and hurt still palpable beneath the surface. "I'm so sorry I broke your trust, Cecil. By the time I realized it was something I should have told you, I was afraid you would leave if you found out. It was so selfish of me to make the choice to keep it secret after that." He attempts to paraphrase the words Cecil shared with him in a dark parking lot beneath the glimmering lights. "Love is about someone else; it isn't supposed to be selfish. I'm so sorry."
For a breath, Cecil almost looks poised to respond, but fate pounces upon the opportunity to draw the song to a close. The dancer pulls away reluctantly, allowing the scientist to make his way toward the exit.
"This is for you," Carlos says before leaving. He presses the ordinary watch and an equally ordinary key into Cecil's hand. "My grant application was approved thanks to your help finalizing the experimental stage, so I keep normal hours at the lab now. Eight to five. You can pick up the rest of your stuff from my place, and you don't even have to see me." He takes a deep breath before finishing his admission. "The truth is," Carlos says quietly, "you're the most beautiful enigma I've ever encountered. The only scientific peculiarity I never wanted to solve." A single tear escapes Cecil's wisteria eyes, and on a whim Carlos softly kisses it away. One last confession before turning to leave: "For what it's worth, you kept me warm."
